Returned
by Fyretress
Summary: Castiel returns a certain object to Dean (hint hint, it rhymes with "hamchulet")


It was a pretty crappy day. It wasn't _raining_, per say, but the air was thick and heavy with moisture that didn't quite qualify as rain, but wasn't thick enough to be fog. The ground was damp, water puddling on the cement and turning what used to be pristinely groomed lawns into treacherous mud. There was some wind, not enough to bend the trees, but just the right amount to make watching TV an endeavor that made Dean want to punch the screen.

So, yeah. Crappy day.

Sam had ditched the motel room to go to the library, the nerd, leaving Dean alone in the room to amuse himself.

Most days, he would've jumped at the idea. A little private time with his skin mags and whisky? Golden.

But not today. Maybe it was the not-rain, maybe it was the awful television reception, or maybe just because they hadn't gone on a really good hunt in a while, but Dean was just in a dark mood.

So instead of ogling at superb Asian breasts or getting just tipsy enough for the bad jokes in Dr. Sexy MD to be hilarious, Dean flopped down face first on his bed and inhaled deeply through his pillow. When he pushed it up over his ears, the sound of the cars and trucks driving by was muffled, and it was almost like he was in his bedroom so very long ago, listening to his mother sing _Hey Jude _to him until he drifted into dream land…

Someone tapped his shoulder.

Instinctively, Dean grabbed his gun and shot up, pointing the weapon at the first figure he saw. His body was a tense line of wound muscle and tight ligaments, a battle calm dominating his mind.

Dean let out the breath he hadn't been aware he was holding and lowered his gun. "Cas."

Castiel nodded in greeting. "Dean."

"I didn't even hear you come in."

Cas' blue eyes flicked to the gun still clutched rather tightly in the hunter's hands.

"I noticed."

"What's up?"

Instead of answering, Castiel seated himself on the mattress next to Dean with no regard whatsoever of his personal space and glanced down at his folded hands.

"Cas?" Dean uncocked his gun and shoved it back under his pillow. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's _wrong_." His slender hand slid into the pocket of his trench coat, seemingly fiddling with something. Which was ridiculous. Cas didn't _fiddle_. "I …have something for you."

Dean's eyebrows shot up. "Do tell."

Castiel's hand slid from his pocket, fisted around whatever he wanted to give to Dean. With his free hand, Cas grabbed Dean's arm and slid his palm down the length of it until he reached the hunter's lax fingers, where he peeled them open one by one.

With slow, deliberate motions, Cas slipped his fisted hand into Dean's open palm and spread his fingers, dropping a small but heavy _thing_ into Dean's palm. It was cool and smooth, connected to what felt like a small rope pooling around it on his flesh.

Cas' hand was still covering Dean's, so he couldn't see whatever he had given him when he said, "You lost this."

With a puzzled frown, Dean glanced up from their hands to find blue eyes watching him intently, holding his gaze for several seconds too long before the warmth of Castiel's hand disappeared from his and Dean looked down.

There, sitting in his palm like it had never disappeared, was his amulet. _His _amulet. With a chip in the side and the tarnished horns and the slight imperfection on one of the eyes.

"_What is it?" twelve year old him asked._

"_A pony!" tiny, so innocent Sam snapped as he finished taping the newspaper wrapping John's gift. _

_Dean huffed and flopped down on the couch to read a car magazine. _

"Cas…" Dean's voice was cracking, but he couldn't find it in him to care.

"_Here." Little Sam held out the crinkled bundle of newspaper to Dean, young hazel eyes already glistening with anger for their father and love for his older brother at the young age of eight. "Take this." _

_Dean shook his head, glancing down at the present then back up at Sam. "No." He shook his head again. "No, that's for Dad."_

"Wha-…How did you?..."

_Sam dropped his arm into his lap, thumb fiddling with the torn edge of the newspaper. "Dad lied to me." He shoved the gift at Dean, and said more forcefully, "I want you to have it."_

_Dean hesitated, eyes flicking down to the newspaper once more. "You sure?"_

_Sam nodded, confident. "I'm sure."_

Dean ran his thumb along the edge of the pendant, unable to hide the smile that was turning up the edge of his lips and the wetness that was starting to prick his eyes.

_Taking the bundle carefully from his little brother, like it would break if he handled it too roughly, Dean unwrapped the shoddily taped newspaper to reveal a strange sort of necklace inside. With a slightly cocked eyebrow, he lifted the jewelry into the palm of his hand to inspect it. The two faced amulet was some sort of thick metal, bronze maybe, and looked like a pagan horned god. It was strange and sort of ugly and gawky and nerdy and so fucking _Sam_._

"_Thank you, Sam. I…" Dean swallowed. "I love it." _

_Sam watched with an almost imperceptible smirk as his older brother maneuvered the necklace onto his head, pendant coming to rest halfway down his torso. When he glanced up, they shared a smile._

"Nataero," Castiel said softly, as if he was unwilling to break the hunter's calm happiness. "Roman god of lost items. He owed me a favor."

With a quiet chuckle, Dean slid the necklace over his head. His heart quivered with happiness at the familiar thud of the heavy amulet on his sternum.

"Thank you," Dean whispered, closing his eyes as he wrapped his fingers around the necklace.

The rare smile that flitted across Castiel's lips was lost on Dean.

"You're welcome, Dean."

_..._

_Heya heya. So lately, most of my one-shots have been based on tumblr posts. _

_here's the link if you wanna know post/55383153607/lordassbutts-everdeenstreets-most -people_

_au revoir _


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